I will always love one story's interpretation of Death. Death is the home. Everyone will go to death, and she loves us all. She doesn't try to kill you because you'll come to her anyways. Everyone loves her too. We feel at home with her because we belong to her. From the moment we began to live, Death made room for us. She will take care of us in the end. She wants our life to have meaning because then our death will be more meaningful too.
It's such a startling contrast to the normal "Haha I'm evil and I wear black" that death always seems to do. It actually made so much sense in a way I can't even begin to describe. It just felt right. Almost as if she was telling me that to let me know I will be welcome. I believe this to an extent. I don't think there is actually any entity like this, but I do see death as a kind force. The greatest mercy.
There's a crazy interesting book called Wisconsin Death Trip. It's newspaper clippings from one small town from my favorite decade: 1890-1900. In it, one article was apologising for the hysterical woman making a scene in the town the previous day.
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Apparently, her 18 year old daughter died of a sickness. Everyone agreed to cut her some slack because it was okay to be sad in this particular case. They said something like, "Everyone knows the children and the elderly belong to the grave, but you shouldn't have to lose your child after they're old enough. Death overstepped her bounds."
This is beautiful and haunting. I am afraid to die, but when a loved one or someone I care about has to go, I try to tell myself that they are safe and free of pain, suffering, and burden and that they are happy. When my grandmother died, I consoled my mom by telling her that she was in Heaven with her two older brothers, knitting in her favorite chair with her big grey kitty on her lap, content and peaceful. When a friend of mine died young, in high school, I tried to tell myself that he was going to play all the tennis and video games he wanted to with no homework and no responsibilities. He had physical deformities and had pain in this world, but I know that he is happy in another. I am sorry they had to go before their time, and I miss them dearly, but they are safe, loved, and missed. Now I'm crying
It's such a startling contrast to the normal "Haha I'm evil and I wear black" that death always seems to do. It actually made so much sense in a way I can't even begin to describe. It just felt right. Almost as if she was telling me that to let me know I will be welcome. I believe this to an extent. I don't think there is actually any entity like this, but I do see death as a kind force. The greatest mercy.
,
Apparently, her 18 year old daughter died of a sickness. Everyone agreed to cut her some slack because it was okay to be sad in this particular case. They said something like, "Everyone knows the children and the elderly belong to the grave, but you shouldn't have to lose your child after they're old enough. Death overstepped her bounds."